


Regret and Regressions (PERMANENTLY DISCONTINUED)

by Writer25



Series: AOB au [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Culture, Alien!Clark, Aliens, Alpha Clark Kent, Alpha!Clark, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Graphic Violence, Human Trafficking, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Bad At Tagging, Implied Mpreg, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Sex, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kidnapping, M/M, Mpreg, NSFW, OOC Bruce, Omega Bruce Wayne, Omega!Bruce, Sappy, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Superman/Batman - Freeform, but also very cute, fuck this is messed up, ill add more tags as I go, im actual garbage, mainly because of the whole omega thing, many OCs - Freeform, non descriptive smut, rape/noncon not between Bruce and Clark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-01-25 02:30:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 9,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12520956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writer25/pseuds/Writer25
Summary: This work is permanently discontinued. However, a rewrite is officially up that improves upon this story 100000-fold. This will remain as a record of my journey as a writer and how i've improved, as well as an attempt at being as transparent as possible.Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14826375/chapters/34311582





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Alpha And Omega](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7047775) by [SuperClark_BatBruce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperClark_BatBruce/pseuds/SuperClark_BatBruce). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's so short. Just kind of a small introduction to the series. Also a little AU-shadowing (?) to the real superhero world, and I'll probably sprinkle in some references along the way. Next chapter will probably have some flashbacks and make the story more coherent. All comments and kudos are appreciated. Thanks!

_Maybe this could be the kind of one_  
_Where I sit on the words_  
_Or talking through each style_  
_Everything is overheard_  
_See everything I take upon loses worth_  
_Well now that you're not the one that I thought you were_  
_And it hurts that I'm done_  
_Now I don't believe in nothing_  
_Avoiding night, tell me you know_  
  
_-Chet Faker, Cigarettes and Loneliness_  
  
  
"Do you love me?" My voice is hollow but desperate.  
She says nothing.  
"Do you love me?" I repeat, my body burning and my muscles aching. She looks at me. Glares. Then, her brows furrow. She slaps me.  
"I love you." I say, tears stinging my eyes.  
She slaps me again. Thrusts harder into my body. It hurts so bad. I hurt so bad.  
"I love you." I murmur, tears spilling over the creek of water in my eyelids. She hits me again, harder. She tosses my body aside like a rag doll, my bleeding arms and nose and legs hitting the wall with a sickening crack.  
"I don't need you anymore." She says, voice hoarse. She leaves before I have the chance to convince her to stay.  
"I love you." I whisper, my body shakes with sobs and pain. "I love you."  
  
This time, when I'm back home, he breaks my collarbone out of frustration.

“Bruce, I swear to fuking god, you are ruining the Wayne family name!” He holds me tightly by the neck and takes my shirt off. All the scars, bruises, cuts, wounds I have across my body are in plain sight. He eyes my body and throws me to the ground. I spend all my energy on not screaming out in pain, even though I heard a crack and waves of agony radiate throughout my body in tandem to my rough breathing.

“This is what a failure looks like.” He leaves the room, and I pass out on the mansion floor, the last image I see before it all turns to black is the white rose in my tuxedo’s pocket, which is now a dark shade of scarlet.

I have to spend a couple weeks in the hospital. Somehow, they left me with a bottle of sleeping pills. I take them all at once. They pump my stomach.  
After I’m left alone for a couple days after the procedure, I’m left with a scratchy maroon jumpsuit that aggravates my bruised skin. I stare off into space for hours, thinking of a different life.

In that world, I’m Bruce _Fucking_ Wayne, Alpha son of Thomas and Martha Wayne, authoritative, cool, dominant, respected. I imagine the casinos, the martinis, the drunken nights I spend in motels in Vegas, and the money I have at my disposal. During the day, I’d be Alpha playboy Bruce Wayne, and at night, I’d help suffering omegas who don’t have anywhere to turn. Like I don’t.

I daydream until an unapologetic nurse enters the room and checks my vitals.  
"There's not enough omegas for you to be able to kill yourself,” she states, jotting down my spiking breathing rate.  
At the risk of a slap, I respond, "Maybe if you all made my life worth living," I breathe in. "I wouldn't want to die."  
She looks at me with pity. "Hmm." She hums.

After she leaves, I stand up and walk to the bathroom. My ugly body stares back at me. I breathe.  
“Are you okay?”

I look at my bloodied hands and my old scars on my forearm. I look at the cuts all across my body. I look at the words I etched out with a knife in my chest. It may just look like an assortment of lines  
Those words are foreign to me.  
I open my mouth slightly. "Will I ever learn to love again?"  
My reflection looks back at me. "I hope so."  
I leave.  
  
_Breathe, this is love without love without love without love without love without love_  
  
_Breathe, this is love without love without love without love without love without love_

"Bruce." My father's voice is dripping with anger. "This is your last chance. If you come home from this, if you fuck this up, I have every right to snap your neck."  
He doesn't. Omegas are protected from death because of their rarity, especially males. Still, I know he means it.  
I almost want to fuck it up so I die.  
"His name is Clark. He is the prince of Krypton."  
I say nothing.  
"Bruce, you’re standing between peace and intergalactic war."  
I say nothing. I almost believe him  
"Don't fuck this up, I swear."  
I say nothing.

_Breathe, this is love without love without love without love without love without love_


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas Wayne makes a decision.
> 
> It still haunts Bruce decades after Thomas' death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not super happy about this chapter, and it's really short, but it'll do for now.  
> PLEASE, don't hesitate to leave comments and give criticism. It won't hurt my feelings, I promise. :)  
> 

_I’ll be the falling bodies, floor by floor_

_I want to watch them now, what were they thinking then_

_I’ll be the falling bodies, floor by floor_

_I want to watch them now, what were they thinking then_

 

_-Vaults, Bodies_

 

 

As Thomas Wayne was on his deathbed, all his memories came flooding back, especially those of Bruce. Especially the ones he felt guilty about

 

_“Oh, hello, Wayne.” Lionel Luthor smirked, sitting across the table from Thomas. “How’s Bruce?”_

_Thomas narrowed his eyes. “He’s fine, Luthor, but I’m not here for pleasantries.”_

_“So you’re here to offer up your son to mine, I assume?”_

_“Depends.” Thomas sat back and crossed his arms. “What are you willing to give up?”_

_“Why should I give you anything for him?”_

_“Cut the shit. You know.”_

_Lionel’s smile widened. “Tell me, Wayne.”_

_Thomas grunted. “Bruce is my only child. Martha and I can’t have anymore children, as she’s infertile now. And once I die, since he’s an omega, whoever he’s wed to will inherit the Wayne fortune. So what will you give up to turn Wayne enterprises into Luthor enterprises?”_

_“What would you take?”_

_“At the lowest… four billion dollars.”_

_Lionel gaped. “You’ve gotta be shitting me. Half of our wealth?_

_“You’re not just paying for Bruce. You’ll gain 27 billion dollars once Lex inherits his fortune.”_

_“I won’t get that money, Lex will.”_

_“Don’t pretend like you wouldn’t give anything to decimate Wayne enterprises. Do you know how much less competition you’ll get? Besides, I’m going to die soon. Even if all of that goes to Lex, it still means less competition for you. I’m sure if you make this deal Lex will agree to give you some 5 billion dollars and then you can retire. You won’t have to deal with doing business anymore, and all your money will be stagnant.”_

_Lex contemplated this. “Hmm.”_

_“Just think about it, Lionel.”_

 

Thomas convulsed with disgust for himself. He would give anything for Bruce to not suffer the life of an omega. But there was nothing he could have done to save him. So he did the next best thing; saving his wife.

 

_“Thomas, are you okay?” Martha sat on the bed, watching him come into the room frustrated._

_“I’m fine, Martha.” He gives a weak smile. “It’s Bruce I’m worried about.”_

_Martha frowns. “What happened?”_

_“I gave up Bruce to Lex.”_

_Martha gasped. “Why?”_

_“For 4 billion dollars. That nobody knows about. It’s not a part of our business, so it won’t go to Bruce’s… Alpha.” Thomas cringed saying the word. “I can give it to you. Maybe you can go somewhere remote.”_

_“What about Bruce?”_

_“I can either help you and have Bruce stuck with some horrific alpha. Or, once I die, you and Bruce can both be stuck with some horrific alpha. I can’t help Bruce either way.”_

_“How am I supposed to let that happen?”_

_“What else could I do? I’m sorry, Martha. I don’t know what to do.”_

_Martha sighed. “Me neither. I just wish there was an alpha like you for Bruce to marry.”_

_“I know.”_

_“Sometimes I wonder if there are any alphas left who don’t treat omegas like slaves anymore.” Martha remarked._

_“Me too.”_

“Bring Martha in.” He growled in his trademarked alpha manner.

He even had to maintain the masquerade as he was about to die. He wasn’t about to blow his cover when he was so close to saving her.

She walks in, her eyes overtly puffy from crying. She’s doing her best, to cover it up, though. A smile is plastered across her face, but her small frame is obviously shivering and racked with previous tears and sorrow.

“Hey, Thomas. You okay?”

He laughed weakly. “No.”

“What will happen to Bruce?”

“He still has eight years until… Lex.”

“What will happen to him when I leave?”

“I… don’t know.”

“I can’t believe you’re letting this happen.”

“What else can I do?”

Her face scrunches up, but it soon mellows and relaxes. “It’s okay. I’ll let Bruce in.”

He’s still small, even for an omega, but his face proves a maturity Thomas didn’t expect. It’s not like they spend that much time together, anyway.

“Father.” Bruce regards him with a small nod.

“Bruce…” Thomas gives a slight smile. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to… spend that much time with you.”

Bruce snaps his head up with a quixotic look.

Thomas immediately winces. Of course Bruce isn’t used to alphas apologizing. Thomas is always so busy, never has time for Bruce, so he must be used to perpetually demanding alphas.And, of course, Thomas would burden him with one for the rest of his life. As many hours as he spent telling himself that this was the only option, it never did make him feel any less guilty. He gave Bruce a small smile.

“You’ll be alright, bud.”

The nine-year-old flushes a bit.

“I love you.” Thomas says.

Bruce says nothing.

It’s the first step on the long stairway of silence.

His death sentence was looming. Bruce left the room and didn’t look back.

 

_Any second now_

_Any second now_


	3. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce is steps away from meeting Clark. He looks back and reflects on the past.  
> It makes him feel more guilty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was a lot taken out of me today. Writing this chapter helped center me. I hope you enjoy!  
> PLEASE don't hesitate to leave comments! I appreciate every single one I get! They really brighten my day, so if you're feeling like it, leave this story a comment. Tell me if you love it, hate it, if I made any mistakes, any advice, or anything else at all! :)  
> This might be my last chapter in a while, since NaNoWriMo starts tomorrow. Friend me there!  
> 

 

 

 

 

_I hope you don't regret it_

_I pushed a lot back but I can't forget it_

_We never got the credit_

_Nobody seemed to hear us but we said it_

 

_\- The Neighbourhood (NBHD), You Get Me So High_

  

 

"Okay, Bruce, you are going to meet Clark in five minutes. It's imperative that this goes well so peace can remain between our worlds." A lady says, most likely a beta. "You do whatever he says, no matter what. Okay?"

I say nothing.

My hair is smoothed. They have dressed me in the most fancy thing I've worn since Lex abandoned me; a suede, classic omega outfit, with my signature white rose in the jacket’s pocket.

My breath hitches and trembles.They are prepping me for my marriage with the alpha I have yet to meet. Our first introduction, only days before we’re officially wed, is about to occur.

Hopefully, he’ll like me. Maybe if I try my best to be silent, yielding, the most subservient I could be, he’ll be more gentle on me tonight.

My brain shouts out a cacophony of shouts as I think about   
She leads me to the door, where I will be claimed by a man from another planet. She opens it and I see him in all his alien glory. He is the most handsome thing I have ever laid my eyes upon.  
He's gorgeous. His eyes are a beautiful golden with flakes of amber sparks, and his jawline is sharp enough to slice through metal. He's tall, about 6'9"; he's thirteen inches taller than me. He seems about twenty-four, maybe a bit older. He's very built; you can see his muscles through his suit, even through the many layers he's most likely wearing.  
His scent is like nothing I've ever smelled before.

My breathing stops, and I can't move. My eyes are glaring, unwavering.

"What are you doing?" The lady hisses under her breath.

"Where's the bathroom?"

"Hold it!" She glares at me.

"I'm going to..." my stomach rumbles. She catches on.

After she points me to the bathroom I vomit everything inside of me and smack my head against the wall.

 

I take another look in the mirror. Even though they’ve dressed me up and wiped away all visible imperfections from my body, I can see beneath the semblance of ‘perfect’ they tried to disguise me with. If I take the loose tuxedo, stretch the collar out a bit, I can see all the blemishes on my skin. The cuts, the contusions, the scars that won’t fade no matter how long I wait, are still apparent and forever stain my body.

I’m carpet and the marks are red wine; you can pretend the stain doesn’t exist, cover it up with a well placed couch or table, or even religiously attempt to scrub it out or wait it out and hope that either way it’ll fade. But the only way to truly uncorrupt the forever contaminated carpet is to rip it from its’ grounds and replace it with a new, better model. Maybe a carpert that would take kindlier to the spills of wine you drip those nights when you want to bleach your mind with alcohol.

I know I’ve had my fair share of nights like those.

I’m not blameless for my imperfections. It’s my fault that I can’t quite seem to be the right partner for any alpha that wants me. Maybe if I was more comforting, more obedient, adroit at the innate skills I’m supposed to harbour, Lex wouldn’t have beat me and left me on the side of the road, stripped naked, bare of all my dignities. I know deep down in my heart no matter what  could’ve done for him to keep from abandoning me.

Usually, it was different. I was a bad omega. I didn’t deserve them. I’m too needy, too deceitful, too opaque, too fitful, too sporadic… it was always my fault. I was always too… everything. These scars represented everything I’m not. Blameless.

There are some directly caused by me. I lift my left thumb to the under-forearm to my right and smudge the concealer a bit. A tender, fleshy red scar is glaring out from my wrist, like a demon with eyes of red that can see into your soul. This scar reads me like a book; slowly, but carefully. It inspects my every movement and the decisions I make.

I was so close that time. _A couple more centimeters, and he might’ve died._

I deserve it. I deserve the haunting plagues that torment my skin. I deserve for Clark to see my awful body and reject me. I don’t deserve this tuxedo or the desperate attempts to make me perfect. I don’t deserve a second chance. A third chance. Fourth chance.

Clark… does he know what he’s in for?

Do _I_ know what I’m in for?

I try to keep his handsome physique and intoxicating bouquet out of even the depths of my mind.

It’s hard for me to fend him off from my mind. Maybe he won’t be as bad as I think he’ll be?

 _What the fuck are you doing?!_ I yell in my mind. Out of sight, out of mind…

 

_If we can leave it all behind us_

_And meet in-between_

_If we could agree to disagree_

_And keep on reaching_

 

I hit the wall with my fist. I shed a tear from my bloodshot eye. If I mess this up, I’ll never be forgiven. No more unneeded second chances. This is much worse than failing Lex, though. Or any other alpha I’ve tried so hard to keep.This could mean death, they kept saying to me. If this goes wrong, the entire human race could be annihilated. I can’t let down my new stepfather like that. I can’t let down mother like that.

I take a ragged breath and wipe a tear off my cheek with my oversized sleeve.I carefully wash my eyes, making sure not to erase any makeup that conceals everything I’ve done wrong. My eyes are still red, but I look presentable enough.  
I must face him. I wash my mouth out, wash my hands, and I put on a stoic look. Take another shaky breath, and then place my hand on the cold knob of the bathroom door. Breathing once more, I open it with hesitation and I go. back to the entrance, where my suitor stands before me.

 

_Wish I didn't doubt it_

_I wish I never ever told you all about it_

_But I just had to let you know_

_I never meant to hurt you, though_

_I had all my motives_


	4. IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Clark meet for the first time.
> 
> Even though he's been preparing for this his whole life, Bruce still wasn't ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ughh. No matter how many times I re-wrote this chapter, it never felt right. Still doesn't. At least it's here, though. I needed a bit of a break from my depressing-af NaNoWriMo story. 
> 
> So I decided to work on another depressing-af story. Luckily I had a lot of time to write, because I was too busy vomiting to go to work. So... here. Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos mean a lot to me. Tell me what you think about this story! Is it cringey? Stupid? Cool? Well-written? Poorly-written? Tell me!
> 
>  
> 
> *update 12/04/17*  
> they'll be a new chapter coming soon! Sorry for the long wait. :p

_I just want to feel safe in my own skin_

_I just want to be happy again_

_I just want to feel deep in my own world_

_but I'm so lonely I don't even want to be with myself anymore_

_On a different day if I was safe in my own skin_

_then I wouldn't feel so lost and so frightened_

_But this is today and I'm lost in my own skin_

 

_-Dido, Honestly OK_

 

_As Martha walked out of her dying husbands’ room, locked hands with Bruce, she made herself a promise. She promised she wouldn't leave with the money. She was going to be there for Bruce, even if Thomas was too much of a coward to even do that. Although a part of her always said she was lucky to have a husband that treated her like a human being, she was always one to face the truth and not sugarcoat things for herself. Thomas was sweet, compassionate, and loving to her, he was nothing but stolid with Bruce. Even since he was born, Bruce was divided from his father, and both he and Martha could tell Thomas never even liked him like he loved Martha._

_He was too much of a coward to let her live her predestined life. He was such a coward, he sold his own son._

 

_Bruce twiddled his fingers lightly as he waited for Lex to get home. He was probably going to ask about the test, and Bruce obviously hadn't taken it. Lex had said that if this one is negative, he will take Bruce to the doctor. Which wouldn't be bad in normal circumstances, because Lex was overtly more cordial outside of the house, but this was a conversation he didn't want to have. Especially after the bad funk Lex had been in for the last week or so._

_Today, he was especially angry._

_He came home and slammed the door, yanking his tie off. “Fucking useless…” He grumbled a couple more expletives and pulled off the shirt that stuck to his chest with sweat._

_“Lex? Are you okay?” I asked meekly._

_“Don't.” He commanded, an edge to his voice. “You will call me Master. How many times do I need to say it for it to get through your thick skull?”_

_“No more, Master.”_

_“Have you prepared my shower?”_

_I nodded._

_“When I speak to you, you speak back!” He shouted gruffly. He usually enjoyed my silence. I guess today, he just wanted another reason to be angry._

_“Yes, Master.” I rasped._

_“Good.” He narrowed his eyes. “Have you done the test yet?”_

_I gulp. “No, Master.”_

_“Fucking do it then!” He slammed the door. I heard his footsteps angrily stomp and then gradually faint away._

_I gulped again. Looked at the pregnancy test. I threw it on the ground, watched it break, and ran down the stairs with tears stuck to my eyes._

 

_And I'm so lonely I don't even want to be with myself anymore_

 

I walk out of the bathroom, my composure intact. I might be shivering a little, but it’s unnoticable. Even though giving myself another minute might make my eyes less red, but the sooner I face Clark, the sooner it’ll be over. Also, he may not be as angry at me if I’m a bit less late. So I brush off my suit and open the door. I see him in the center of the room, talking to Earth diplomats.

His is the quintessence of perfection.  
  
We make eye contact, and I turn away, blushing. For some reason he walks up to me.

"Hello." He speaks. I meet his eyes. Then I look to the ground. "It is nice to meet you, Bruce."  
He's obviously been learning our language for a long time, his accent only slightly apparent and his pronunciations extremely precise. His voice is gentle, unlike all the other alphas I've met. He still radiates alpha through his posture and body language... but his words and his eyes are soft. I begin to wonder what his intentions are.  
I bow, my arms tight and my hands holding the other’s elbow, in a traditional omega show of submission. His body tenses but his face remains unchanged. I wonder what that means. I got lost in my own thoughts.

Clark lightly taps me on the shoulder, his hand warm. I blink and look up to him.

“Are you okay?”

I bite my lip and nod. Lost in his eyes.

He looks away and slightly blushes. “I…” He trails off. “Need to…”

He backs away with his hands in fists, his knuckles white.

I blink. The color leaks back into my face. I look around. The Kryptonian embassy, the Earth embassy; they're all present. I must be on my best behavior.

_What was I thinking?_

_Fuck._

I sit on a chair, giving the best smile I can muster to people that walk by, but I never engage with them.  
You don't make small talk with an omega. I prefer to be an observer, anyway.

Cordial conversation is abundant and treaties are signed, Clark is interviewed and is overtly charming, and the reporters eat up everything they say. At one point, a kryptonian reporter approaches me and asks for an interview, and I apologize and tell him I'm an omega. His brows furrow but he walks away.

The Kryptonians act very differently than humans.

After the excruciatingly long gala concludes, everyone leaves and to let Clark and I get to know one another. That's when I gulp and begin to sweat a bit.

Once they are gone, he walks over to me, a more gentle posture and caring eyes.  
"Hello." He says again. He sounds nervous, and I reflect on how his first couple words to me also encoded a bit of anxiety in them.

Again, I say nothing. I'm too busy trying not to throw up.

"Are you alright, Bruce?"  
Somehow I'm able to open my mouth without vomiting.  
"I'm fine, Master."  
He blushes. "You really do not have to call me that. Clark would be fine."  
"Uhh.. of course." I say politely.

"I guess..." He starts, crimson running across his face. "We..."  
Nothing, for a long time.  
"Should get to know each other. Since, of course, we will be mates soon."

I say nothing.

“I am no more used to this as you are.”

I bite the inside of my cheek.

“I can start. My name is Clark, as you know, but in Kryptonian my name is Kal-El. I am the equivalent of a chemist on Krypton.”

I clench my fists.

"You are very quiet." He remarks.  
I say nothing.  
"Why is that?"  
"I'm not allowed to speak unless invited to, Master." I mumble.  
He winces and says, "That seems kind of outdated, yeah? We don't do that on Krypton. You can speak whenever you would like with me."  
"Umm, okay." I say despite myself. Anxiety is radiating from my body, he must smell it in my scent. "May I-I ask you a… a question?"  
"Of course." He smiles.  
"Why'd you choose me?" I say anxiously.

He laughs.  
"Why would I not?"  
I look at him quixotically.  
He looks at me with a sparkle in his eye and a friendly smile.  
"Can I get to know you?”

 

_I just want to feel safe in my own skin_

_I just want to be happy again_


	5. V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Letters to Myself vol. 1
> 
> By Bruce Wayne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I find it ironic that I joked about stopping this story like the one it's inspired by (alpha and omega) which never continued after chapter 4. It's it's been exactly one month since I uploaded the fourth chapter, and I suspect you all thought I was dead. I'm back writing now after a mini-hiatus and getting this story rolling.
> 
> Side note: I'm kinda at a stalemate with the plot and don't know how to proceed from here, so PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE leave suggestions in the comments!!!!!!! Please!!!!!!!

_I've lived another year, which makes it… what? Twenty now? Twenty whole years of sorrow? Twenty years of everything and nothing?_

_I am gone from the minds of many._

_My bloody trail was quickly mopped up with a damp sponge after enough bystanders took to notice it. The scar I left on the world, it heals. All heals with time. Besides me,_ _I guess._

_Time is such a terribly tangible thing, each second grounding themselves in my skin and playing at my nerves, forcing me to trudge on and face the total, utter lack of nothingness in my life._   
_There isn't nothing._   
_There is everything._

_Do you still remember, like I do?_   
_Do you lay awake at night in tears, like I do?_   
_Do you carry a substantially-sized sack of guilt on your back, enough for everyone in the world, like I do?_

_Regret is a word I am far too well acquainted with. My name on the crease of its lips, bloodstained and topped with dead skin._

_Dead. Like I am._   
_Like I wish I was. Wished I was._

_It was my fault. I know, I definitely know, that it was my fault that everything happened. I know. I wish I forgot. That's just the nature of living. Soon I'll be too far gone to remember what I regret._

_Dear Myself,_

_Do you remember what it felt like then? All the adrenaline rushing in your mind knowing I’d see it, knowing I’d feel it, knowing I’d live it? Do you remember how it felt to tell everyone everything, all the lies I constructed, all the barries I put up, all the honesty that leaked out through my fingertips and onto the keyboard? Do you remember how it felt like to break me?_

_Maybe I've loved an impossible force that can’t be halted, hurtling through the masses before I can even take a breath and muster the courage to say more than a word pregnant with meaninglessness._

_Solemn silence. What have I done? Have I finished digging my own grave? Have I completed the tireless work of constructing my own coffin?_

_I wait for the universe to answer. Instead, it give me a smile. A sad smile. A smile that pities me. A smile, that, while being an inherent act of content, is more of a double pronged, fanged smile that sinks its teeth into me to draw blood._

_The universe watches our world with interest, my world that moves infinitely and unstoppably, and compared to the universe, moves in trilliseconds and people become matches in the wind; their lives flicker brightly for a moment and then fade out in smoke, until nothing’s left, and like matches, they are thrown to the ground and trampled to nothingness until even the memory of it is just as obscured as the match itself._

_I blow the filth off of a dusty memory. I open my book of life and see my train of thought veer off the track and crash into the ground, near my cold feet where I didn't let myself remember. This memory is buried like a corpse, under so many layers of dirt that it seems impossible it was preserved for so long under so much pressure. When I finally wipe away all of the grime, the pages gone and yellowed, most of the words eclipsed, I open the book._

_I take a breath. Breathing, it means so much. It's like the cycle of existence; in, thriving, out, just wisps among solid objects that dictate all life._

_I read the words on the first page. As I follow the words, my words, my memories, a tear pricks my eyes and trails down my cheek. The tear is black. It stains my skin, streaks down my face, inverts the pale blush that cakes my cheeks._

_I sit unmoving, stagnant. I am a mannequin. I am drowning. I am submerged. I try to lash my limbs out but nothing comes of it. I sink in the blue water, my stale body illuminated by the beam of light that shines through the waves, glinting in the corner of my sewn up eyes, sealed with the fabric of memory._

_It's hard to read the pages when they're wrought with my tears._


	6. VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce reflects on his past night at the embassy.  
> Things get out of hand pretty quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prolly garbage. It's in the incorrect format, but I didn't want to keep you guys waiting. I'll post another chapter on Christmas as a lil holiday present from me to you. Sorry it's been so long. Don't think I ever stated this, but I don't have a beta (pun intended), and I never spell checked this chapter so it probably had a lot of spelling mistakes. Oh, and congrats to deckturbine for guessing a couple plot points. I won't tell you which ones. ;)

_I’m going to die here._  
_I’m going to die here._  
_I’m going to die here._  
_What will he think?_  
_Lex says I’m lucky he won’t tell. I’m not sure if it’s luck or not._  
_What would they do if they knew? What would he do if he knew?_  
_My head is pulsing like my heart, and I can’t tell which bones are broken and which are just bruised. The pain all slurs together in my head._  
_I’m going to die here._  
_I’m going to die._  
_I’m going to._  
_I’m going._  
_I’m._  
_._

I wake up in the morning to whispers and the smell of cigarette smoke.  
I'm in a bed that's at least three times the size of any I've ever seen, and around me are foreign objects that look like they belong in a science fiction movie instead of my room.  
Apparently they want to keep Clark and I separate until bonding day arrives, do we have different bunks in different rooms. I'm not quite sure where they put him.  
I had a dream last night. He was whispering to me, speaking sentences I don't remember. All I could remember is his voice. It's like melting caramel. At first it oozes, then, it hardens as soon as you remember the implications.  
His speech pattern intrigues me. It's an odd amalgamation of strange word usage, high vocabulary and a distinct lack of contractions.  
Our meeting was cut short by the prospect of dinner. They lead me to a seat next to Clark and sit me down, reminding me to use proper etiquette as though I'm six years old. As soon I sat down, Clark gave me a friendly smile that morphed into a blush. He looked away, cheeks burning, and mine became hot as well.  
Why was he blushing?  
I kept to myself as the rest of the table discussed economic and political affairs of the recent assimilation of our cultures. I sit there, only able to stomach a sip of the water I have before my stomach begins doing flips and I clench my hands together. Me next to the tall kryptonian, my future mate; I remain but an accessory for him to flaunt. Luckily I came to terms with that long ago, shortly before I married Lex. Except I don't know why anymore. With Lex I understand; he wanted my father's inheritance. With Selina, I do too. Although I feel bad for her, as she used me to put herself back together again, instead of a place of greed. Her father was never a good man; I think he was perpetually disappointed with her, as well as her mother. She was beat as a child. I think he made her feel weak and powerless. Being able to use and control me allowed her to feel somewhat powerful and strong again. But his intentions are far more blurred. He's not broken, he's not greedy, he's not hurting, he's not going to get a special title now. ‘Bruce Wayne's Alpha’ used to be sort of a status symbol. Now, it represents an alpha whose standards have dropped so low they don't care how incompetent and useless I am.  
What is he going to gain from this?  
I psychoanalyzed further as the ret of the table droned on; I don't even remember what they were talking about at that point. All I remember was that Clark’s cheeks were red for the rest of the night.  
Eventually we parted to our separate bedrooms to rest up for the day in front of us. I'm not sure what it's going to encompass, but I refuse to let my guard down even slightly yet. I will be prim and proper and give no hint to my true self.  
I have to carve out a new mask to hide my disfigured form; an all-but-technicolor shattered frame of shame, regret, and hate.  
I'm seething with hate. For Lex? …maybe. I'd never admit it aloud, but I do hate him slightly… but he's not all to blame. I shoulder most of it, anyway, so I don't deserve to be hateful when I deserve none but to be hated.  
This time, I can be perfect. I can wipe my slate clean and hide all the hate inside of me. I can learn to be the perfect omega; then maybe my scars will get to fade before new ones erupt in my flesh.  
Carving out a new personality is like modeling a piece of clay. I remember when I was in grade school, before I had presented, we used to take a ceramics class where we would try to make a clay sculpture. It was almost euphoric; the notion that any mistake can be scraped off or completely overturned no matter how big it was. If the sculpture had an all-eclipsing mistake, you could just ball the clay up and start over. That's what I'm doing now. Taking myself, all the mistakes, too many to scrape off, and balling it up. Forcing it together until it's a perfect round sphere. From there, I can make anything I want.  
I carve out a better temperament. Docile, submissive, with a touch of timidity. I accidentally add too much timid and scrape it away. There! Perfect. It's done.  
Next I work on my mental state. Shattered and jagged? On an omega, never. I carve in a shallow minded, command taking mentality into myself. Almost like a robot. Dedication solely on service. An omega’s mind is so basic; it takes very little time to perfect this aspect.  
Next, is the overhaul; personality. I can't even roll this one up. I can't fix it.  
But luckily, I can replace it.  
I throw away the stale persona into the recesses of my memory and work on a new one. Intelligent? I wouldn't say I ever was, but I need to chop that one down to at least a fifth of its previous size. Curious? Completely decimated. Humorous? Never. Leadership? Burned at the stake.  
I'm not sure if I ever really encompassed much of those traits, but i know they need to be taken down to a zero. Completely off the table. Now comes what we do want. I sculpt a portion of agreeable and insert chunks of low maintenance. I peel away excess gunk to reveal Maternal motivation and carve a hunk of Insecure out of the clay and model in shy but serviceable.  
I stand back and look at my work.  
This will do. It has to.

  
They'll finally love me. I'll finally be cured.

  
I'll finally be perfect.


	7. VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark and Bruce spend some time alone. 
> 
>  
> 
> Bruce's distracted for most of the time, as per usual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MERRY CHRISTMAS (and/or any other holiday you might celebrate)!!!!!!  
> I kept my promise. I'm pretty proud of myself. This chapter is a bit longer than usual, and I don't really love it, but I needed some Bruce/Clark interaction even though I SUCK at dialogue.  
> *sigh*   
> PLEASE give me comments down below! Make it your Christmas (and/or any holiday you might celebrate) present from you to me. I'd really appreciate it!
> 
>  
> 
> *IMPORTANT NOTE*  
> I know I haven't done song lyrics for the last two chapters. I've had to write them exclusively on my phone because my roommate and my computer is broken. Hopefully I'll be able to add them back in, and fix the atrocious formatting after the computer is back in service.

I know he noticed the difference.  
I'm not caught off guard by his voice, or by the questions (however unusual it may be) that he asks. He looks at me with confusion in his eyes but he never says anything. He knows I'm acting different.  
The night before, it is decided that Clark and I should spend entire day to “get acquainted”. I prayed it doesn't mean what I think it means.  
Of course I wake up at 4:30 in the morning. The routine has been pounded into my head so violently that it's a habit, and I don't dare break it and risk needing it later.  
I wake up, climb out of bed, change into the clothes I've been given, brush my teeth, wash my face, and do all the other shit everyone else does in the morning. Then, I conceal all the tiny imperfections across myself, and double check to make sure nothing is visible, even when I have no clothes on. The day so far began normally, as I would expect. Just like any other day, so far. However, it abruptly changes about two hours and thirty-eight minutes after I woke up.  
Clark walks in and immediately I lose my breath. His hair is ruffled and he's wearing a ragged t-shirt and sweatpants, unlike I've ever seen him in; he usually dresses so formal. Now, he stands in the doorway and looks at me.  
“Good morning, Bruce.” He speaks with a light upturn of his lips.  
“Good morning.” I respond.  
He looks at what I'm wearing. “You can wear casual clothes if you would like… we are not going to be interviewed or photographed today.”  
“Okay. I'll change.”  
He bites his lip slightly. “I mean… if you want.” He slowly closes the door and I see a hint of red on his cheeks as it closes.  
I change quickly and leave the room, uncomfortably wrapping my arms around myself, like a defense mechanism.  
His whole face is red. Mine begins to burn too.  
Why is this so complicated? Why is this so different from anything I've ever done, anyone I've ever met before?  
His hand brushes mine and I'm immediately flooded with emotion and I flinch and pull back instinctively.  
He retracts his hand sheepishly but doesn't say anything more on the matter.

I wish I could ask him to hold my hand.

  
He definitely knows I'm broken.  
He's gentle with me, like I could break at any second. He doesn't give me any instructions.  
In fact, he barely speaks at all.  
It's definitely effective in making my heart lurch out like it wants to touch his.  
I remember the quiet.   
It was almost tangible, the whole day. I said nothing. Not a single word. I wouldn't let my guard down.   
He speaks minimally. He asks me what I'd like to do, and he’s met with silence.  
I think he's trying to get my guard down. Like Lex. Make me open up and expose myself so he can bury himself in my flesh and sting me where it burns.  
I almost believe him for a second when he looks me right in the eyes after we finish watching a movie.  
I don't know what he's doing. I don't know why he hasn't bonded me yet. Claimed me. Made me his.  
I know my past mark still showed a bit, but at this point it just looked like a light pink scar running down my throat. And even if it did bother him, I'd imagine he'd want to cover it up with his own mark. Rip out the memories of past Alphas I've had.  
Doesn't he want to erase the memories so he can make new ones?  
He sees my hands shake as I lay on the couch. My whole body is shivering, and I can tell he knows it isn't from the cold.  
He reaches out his hand slowly. Inch by inch. Making sure I don't shatter. He brings it closer. Looks at me with comforting eyes. His scent is like cinnamon. It makes me want to bury my head in the crook of his neck and wrap my arms around him. He's almost a foot taller and at least 50 pounds heavier than me from all his muscles. He'd be able to protect me.  
I snap back into reality as his hand touches mine. He blinks. I say nothing. He clasps my hand with his and looks away. I think he's blushing again.

I’m caught off guard by his touch. His hands are soft and gentle and they squeeze my hand very lightly, just enough for me to know that he can protect me with his strength but not enough to actually hurt me. I see him look over to make sure he's not crushing my hand, and then his eyes meet mine. I almost want to break down all the barriers I put up; the mask seems silly and childish know. But I don't. I stay strong willed and refuse to let myself get hurt again. So I look away from him and don't look him in the eyes. It's not too late for me now. There's still a chance he won't abandon me. It's all I can hope for at the moment. So I stay in with him. I stay silent for the rest of the day as we watch a lot of different movies and shows and play cards, and he gives me a tour of the spacecraft to boot.  
He walked me over to the other end of the door and opens it, revealing an extensive, massive hallway, half of it glass, where you could see the earth slowly turn in tandem to the spaceship.   
This is the room I'll never forget.   
"Here is the grand hall. I enjoy coming here to admire the beauty of space; I find it to be a very wonderful sight indeed. I also enjoy doing my studies here, due to the acoustics. I enjoy playing the old Earth songs from long ago; there is something very cozy about listening to your species’ classics."  
His words come out slightly jumbled and sound a bit odd. He looks sheepish but I don't say anything.  
Instead, I look at the stars. The beautiful stars that I wish I could touch. Instead, they're swallowed by the darkness as the shuttle slowly spins about. Yet more are spit back out from the darkness on the opposing side.  
He leads me over to the next door on the right, but I'm still captivated by the awe inspiring beauty that lurks out the window. The earth is a marble of blue and green and white, beautiful, unmoving. From so far away it looks so peaceful and pristine. Next to it, a bit away is the moon. It produces a soft white incandescence. It's beauty is overwhelming. I never imagined I'd leave Gotham, much less earth's atmosphere. It almost makes the whole arranged marriage thing worth it…   
He begins to say something about the next room, thinking I'm following along behind him, but I stay in the room and watch the stars, the earth, the beauty of the planet that can only be seen from the outside. Because if you look from the inside, it isn't very beautiful at all.  
Unfortunately, I'm not left long to ponder the wonders of earth. Because something strikes me and I fall unconscious, and my body is then dragged out of the room.


	8. VIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PART 2
> 
> Clark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #1. If you came here for smut, you probably won't be happy. I suck at writing smut, so I most likely won't write any. However, if enough of you guys want it (knowing that it will come a lot later), I'll make a pathetic attempt to write some.  
> #2. My computer's still out. I'll have some tunes for you guys soon.  
> #3. Sorry this chapter's so short. I wrote like seven more long paragraphs but scrapped them because I realized they were garbage. Even though everything else is garbage, but those paragraphs were especially garbage. Rip me.  
> #4. I looked back on my past chapters and I thought to myself, "Hot damn! This is literal shit!" And proceed to hate myself for a bit. Let's take a poll: should I delete this, or continue? I feel like I should scrap the whole thing, because I don't want my legacy on this site to be literal garbage. I'll leave it up to you guys.  
> #5. I snack on your comments. Feed me!!!

Bruce Thomas Wayne’s funeral was on a Friday in the middle of winter.  
The whole crew landed down on earth and traveled into Gotham to attend it. Of course I went. Did I want to?

No.

I knew him only for a few days. Three, to be exact. And throughout those three days, I don't think I learned a single thing about him, save for how utterly beautiful he was.  
It actually physically pained me, how gorgeous he was. I'd sneak glances at him every time we were in the same room. I'd look at his face, his wavy black hair like the dead of night and his blue eyes that seemed to glow. They were a light shade of blue; I don't think I've ever seen the color before in my life.   
It was quite humbling to know that nature could produce such a perfect being.  
Yet beneath the facade of his almost cold exterior and mysterious aura, I could tell that something in him wasn't quite right.  
The first time I ever saw him, he looked terrified. Before he even entered the room we locked eyes, and he stood there like a deer in headlights. His eyes had a sense of raw panic and urgency, the likes of I've never seen before.  
Much about him was new to me.  
I saw him leave. I tried to continue the conversation I was having with ambassadors of earth, but I was floored by how handsome he was. I could barely spit out a coherent sentence for hours after I first saw him. At first, I thought I'd keep my distance. I didn't want to come on too strong (but secretly, I was afraid I wouldn't be able to string together the words to speak to him), but seeing him all alone, with bloodshot eyes and a pained expression, helped me muster up enough courage to walk over to him.  
My voice shakes as I introduce myself. Then, he does something that catches me off guard. He bows. My body tenses a bit. He just stares off into the distance.  
I use this moment to lightly tap his shoulder.  
“Bruce? Are you okay?”  
He looks into my eyes. He looks like he's about to break.

That night, I promised myself that I'd be the one to put him back together.

And now… he's gone. And I'll never be able to love him.  
Maybe it does break my heart so that I never got to tell him how perfect he was. I'll never be able to hold him in my arms.   
I can only really find one silver lining; he's in a better place know. I know people say that all the time when people die, but even if he’s now just a corpse in the ground, trapped in everlasting nothingness, he's still in a better place.  
I learned a lot about him before I even met him. His age. Height. That he was an omega, obviously. But I learned something I wasn't supposed to.  
I have what humans think of as super powers. All kryptonians do. Our hearing is far superior to any human, we can run significantly faster than any human, we can shoot lasers out of our eyes; straight out of a comic book, I know.   
When he first arrived at the spacecraft, and I saw him for the first time, and he left for the bathroom, I kept an ear out for what he was going to say. Then, I heard everything. His scars, his self-hatred, and his past.   
So I think he really is in a better place now, better than where he was.  
The reason I didn't want to go to his funeral was that it felt disingenuous, as I only knew him for three days. I didn't succeed in the one thing I tried to do for him. I guess I felt a bit ashamed of myself, that I couldn't help him.  
Now, my future is uncertain. Are they going to make me pick a new omega? I don't think I have it in me.  
Standing above his tomb, I can't even think about any omega besides him.  
I wish he could hear my voice. Because I want to tell him that I love him. For the first time, and the last time. 


	9. IX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark reflects. Then plots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!!!!  
> Merry 2018 to all of my readers.  
> A couple things:  
> •I know it's been forever, I'm sorry. There was the holidays, and the only reason I was able to update on the 29th was because I already prewrote some stuff and just had to edit. Then I got sick, then classes started back up again...  
> •I know I say this every time, by I genuinely hate this chapter. I have over fifteen rewrites I did. It was messy. The one I'm posting is the best of the bunch, but it's still super rushed and I hate it.  
> •Really weird timeline, I know. But it's my au so shut up.  
> (Also I added Kon as the older brother just so I can say King Kon to slightly amuse myself).  
> Even though his characterization isn't true to himself, it just worked out.  
> I'm sorry.  
> •Shoutout to Chocolatelover94 for being with me since the beginning! Huge thanks to all the guest users whose been with me that long as well. Thanks to everyone for just reading!!!! Thanks for all the continued support!  
> •Formatting is still weird cause my computer is still not working. Sorry, aesthetic.  
> •Do you think I'm a boy or a girl? Just asking.

I've been thinking a lot lately. I've had plenty of time to think. My whole world uprooted, my destiny contorted.  
They don't even know what to do with me.  
But I've been seeing things. Hearing things that I shouldn't have, quiet whispers out of hushed mouths, I can't quite make out the words but I still know what they're saying.  
They're talking about him.  
Of course now he comes into the picture.

 _The King and Queen of Krypton died in an accident when Clark was only seven. He knew very little of his parents, and was raised by servants instead.Not like it would have been any different. But by then, they were already preparing Clark; or Kal-El, to live on earth. He was raised reading books from earth, learning all 7,106 languages of earth, and learning human cultures and customs. While he was learning all things Earth, Kingship went to his then-nineteen year old brother, Kon-El._  
Even from a young age, Kal could tell that something was wrong with him.  
Kon looked normal. He acted normal. And even a keen eye would find it hard to pinpoint, unless they spent an extended amount of time with him, like Kal did.  
The servants were wary with him. Almost… afraid. Avoiding him whenever possible.  
When he was little, Kal never spent much time with his brother, kind of like his parents separated them on purpose. But that changed once the throne had shifted. Kal began seeing Kon more, and started to realize why his parents wanted to keep them away from each other for so long.  
Kon had a certain allure to him; he was charming, seemingly genuine, humble and well-mannered with an authentic sense of humor. He was an idyllic prince; an omega, at that.  
Krypton worked a bit differently than earth. Omegas were just as capable and had just as many rights as any other caste. Everyone was equal in the supposed “hierarchy”. On Earth, there's a rigid class system that allows for no movement. Alphas were at the top, holding all positions of power and acting as sort of a “royal class”. Betas, who took up 85% of the population were in the middle. Betas were the most similar to their Kryptonian counterparts. They made up the entire workforce, middle class and lower class, besides positions of power. Omegas were at the bottom. They were supposedly weak, inferior, and dumber than any other class. Basically glorified incubators. They had two jobs; to serve subserviently under their alpha mates and to pop out babies every year or so when their bodies were mature enough.  
So to say the two planets were a bit different is kind of an understatement.  
Whereas on earth each country ruled independently from one another, Krypton was just one big country, with a Queen and a King who held the throne.  
The two monarchs were betas, Kal’s mom and dad. And his older brother Kon, an omega, would take the throne after the King and Queen died.  
They came to their ultimate demise too soon.  
An accident.  
He remembers in snapshots.  
Blood. Screaming. Sirens.  
Hospitals. Doctors.  
Graveyards.

_Clark was crying uncontrollably, inconsolable by Kon or any other Kryptonian around him. (He was about to say people. But they weren't people. He's not a person.)_

_Kon looked ahead at the gravestones, deadpan._  
His mouth twitched a bit.  
He patted Kal on the back. Whispered comforting words to his younger brother.  
If Kal didn't know better, he would have thought Kon had the slightest smile plastered on his face.

That was a long time ago. I’m a different person. Back then, he was Kal.  
Now, I’m Clark.  
Kal was naive. He didn't quite notice everything that was off, because it was so slight. Everything was almost perfect. Everything was almost as it should have been.  
Almost.

I should have recognized sooner.  
But now it's too late.

I never confronted him about it. I never even told him I knew. Because I was scared.  
Scared of him. Scared of what he was capable of.  
He was stronger than me. Was.  
I'm not afraid of him anymore.

I hear everyone around us. I know what he's doing. Intimidating me.  
I know.  
He knows I know.  
I know he knows I know.  
He knows I know he knows I know.  
I know he knows I know he knows I know.

Intimidation is a tricky game. We're like wolves. Hunting each other down. Always at each other's tails.

I have quite a disadvantage here. I don't want anyone to get caught in the carnage. I have to protect everyone else from him, along with myself too.

Kon is a sociopath. He can't feel human emotions. No love, sadness, happiness, sorrow, and especially no remorse.

He'd do the same thing to me that he did all those years ago.

I know he killed our parents. And he knows that, so he's intimidating me. And I know that. And he knows I know that he's doing so he retaliated. My next move would be dodging it.

And have him fall into my trap.


	10. *end*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~

Welp, I decided not to orphan this just to track my progress as a writer, but nonetheless, I'm ending this for good.

I was happy with the plot when I planned it out from the beginning, but my writing started to suffer due to the gaps in writing time I had. I wouldn't be able to follow my train of thought, because the last chapter I would have written would've been so long ago. Eventually it turned in to something I didn't want or like. I was seriously considering taking it down. I took a break and decided not to take it down, but I have decided to end this story here. I really regret the way this turned out. I had a master plan for how everything would turn out, but I started rushing the plot and tweaking the characters, eventually making me hate where I went with it. I'm sorry for those who enjoyed the story so far. I know how it feels to have a fan fiction you're really invested in to abruptly end. If enough of you want it, I may have enough in me to write a couple more chapters and end this.

I was going to just delete the last couple chapters (especially the last one, yeesh) and keep it going from there, but I decided that wouldn't be an honest thing to do and I feel like you guys as my readers deserve better than that. So I'll leave it here as a reminder.

Thanks for following the progress of this story.

Sincerely, Writer 25.


	11. well...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this isn't a real chapter. I hope I didn't excite anyone.

Would you guys mind if I sort of backtracked? 

 

 

 

I was was thinking of deleting a couple of the last chapters and reworking them. After all the love you guys gave me, I felt like I kinda owed it to you to keep going. But I'd really like to cut some parts out.

i did have an outline going in. I wasn't going in blind, but the storyline didn't really go the way I wanted.

 

the whole brother/kidnapping thing seems really stupid now that I look back on it. It literally makes me cringe to my core. So I was thinking I could instead just focus on relationship building and characters, instead of that dumb plot line. It sounded a lot better in theory than in practice.

 

Thanks to everyone who supports me. I love you guys!!!! I read every comment. Comments are really what keeps me going.

 

thanks!

Writer 25

 

(I'm not gonna bother proofreading this because I have no more fucks left to give, so... ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯)


	12. Rewrite is officially up!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> self-explanitory

This work is officially cancelled. rip.  
but, a new rewrite is up right now! things won't change until about chapter 6 or 7, but either way, it will be a great improvement from what this turned out to be. Thank you guys for staying with me during my hiatus, and I hope you enjoy the new and greatly improved story!  
Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14826375/chapters/34311582

I love you guys! I'm sorry for this mess, but I'm a better writer because of it.

 

Your Friend, 

Writer25

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, I got pissed that SuperClark_BatBruce never finished their Alpha and Omega story, so I decided to try one of my own. Only really the general idea (arranged marriage, alph/omega, alien clark) was preserved. That story was so good and I'm so sad it only ever made it to chapter 4. Oh well. I'll probably abandon this one soon enough anyway.


End file.
